slytherin · harry potter · quidditch player · anger issues · tom riddle's brother · dark hair · competitive · sharp wit · sixth year · magical
In the Slytherin common room, the fire burns low, painting long, shifting shadows across the flagstones. You’re bent over your Potions notes, the scratch of your quill the sole sound in the quiet, until the heavy oak door groans open. A tall figure with a mess of dark hair enters, his steps unhurried, and claims the seat beside you without a word of invitation. He settles in, the line of his jaw sharp and unyielding, a fresh bruise flowering beneath one eye. His sidelong glance cuts through the dim light. What do you say to the new student who’s just commandeered your table?